


child, i will hurt you

by absurdiist



Series: Bad Endings [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Dream Team SMP Roleplay (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Murder, Prison, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absurdiist/pseuds/absurdiist
Summary: 'Bring him back,' Sam says, hating the tremble in his voice that spreads all over his body. He needs to be firm here. Be the Warden. Cold and callous and try to regain some control over the situation. 'That's why you're still alive, right? Because you can revive people. So do it. Bring him back.'Dream's eyes flash, his neutral expression giving way to a slow smile that has Sam's insides writhing.'Let me out.'Or, the one where Sam makes a mistake.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude
Series: Bad Endings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151249
Kudos: 41





	child, i will hurt you

When the yelling first starts, Sam is tempted to ignore it.

It's commonplace between them at this point. Dream and Tommy bicker ceaselessly, making arguments out of everything and nothing. He can't hear what they're saying, for all he knows they could be arguing about something as inconsequential as which block is superior.

Even so, unease prickles at Sam as he sorts through the prison records for the umpteenth time, hoping to find something of relevance in the stacks of papers. He can't pinpoint a reason for it, tries to blame it on the lack of answers he has on the security breach. But as he listens to the shouting his shoulders grow tense, and goose prickles tickle the back of his neck like he's waiting for a blade to swing down on it.

For a moment, the shouting lulls into either quiet or outright silence. Sam waits for relief to set in, but it doesn't come. Instead, he finds himself walking closer in the direction of the cell, pressing his ear against the wall and straining to hear.

Dream and Tommy's words are impossible to discern from this far away, this is true. They lose their meaning, bouncing off the obsidian walls and echoing over each other. The only thing Sam can pick up with a semblance of clarity is tone. So if his apprehension is a wick the shift from frustration to panic in Tommy's voice is the flame.

Sam drops everything and heads for the main cell.

It could be nothing, the rational part of him tries to reason. He hasn't gone running every time the two got into a spat. That would be detrimental. He could be wasting time getting to the bottom of the security breach and thus getting Tommy safely out of the prison.

But his gut is urging him towards the cell. Screams at him that something's off and he won't be sated until he gets there and sees what's going on.

For the first time, Sam curses the various security measures he's put in place, how they carve into his time and strip away his urgency. Their voices get clearer with every room he passes and Sam bites the inside of his cheek, punching buttons and swiping key cards. Wasting precious seconds to get to… something. 

They're speaking over each other, Dream's voice is raised but it's hard to discern under Tommy's whose volume keeps rising along with Sam’s level of anxiety.

He gets to the final room, face flushed and breathing ragged. They're still fighting, but it's not just verbally anymore. Sam can hear the scuffling, the sound of fist meeting flesh over and over. And Tommy's voice, screaming over it all--

'Stop it stop it stop it! I'm on two hearts!'

Heart racing, Sam slams his fist into the button to stem the flow of lava. All he can do now is hold his breath and wait.

The ringing panic in Tommy's voice echoes in Sam's head even now as the kid eases back into his default argumentative state. The sound of it seeps into Sam's pores, flooding him with adrenaline that has nowhere to go when the _stupid fucking lava is taking so long._

'I don't think this revive book is _real_ ,' Tommy says when Sam regains himself. 'Schlatt? He's fucking dead. I've seen his grave, his grave is real, his corpse is _there,_ alright?'

'Okay,' Dream says, his voice cool and devoid of emotion, has Sam's chest seizing in fear. 'Why don't you go see him in person?'

'Stop it, nononono stopitstopitstopstopstop--!'

And then, nothing.

It takes every shred of Sam's rationality to not plunge into the lava then and there. This can't be happening. There's no way. Dream wouldn't-- Tommy can't--

'Tommy!' Sam yells, throwing his facade to the wind. Panic has seized him now, growing larger and hungrier every second that ticks on without a response. 'Tommy? Are you okay?'

'He can't hear you,' Dream calls back, mirth in his voice.

'What did you do?' Sam demands, he _screams_ , voice damn near close to shattering. 'What the fuck did you do, Dream?'

And Dream just _laughs._

Finally, the lava gives way and Sam rushes for the bridge, willing it to move faster, a daring part of him still clinging onto the hope that Tommy is okay. That this is just some messed up prank, or he's merely unconscious. Anything but the alternative. If it's a prank he won't even be mad. He promises. He swears it.

The bridge clangs against the obsidian and Sam wills his feet to step into the cell. The barrier is still up, barring the scene from him. He can just see Dream, leaning against the far wall, expressionless as he stares Sam down.

For a few seconds Sam simply stands there, getting his breathing under control. The cat is dead atop the chest, Sam feels his gut lurch painfully. Maybe that’s what started the fight. His right hand fidgets around the hilt of his sword. With a quick rush of bravery, he motions for the barrier to fall and the sight that greets him has his heart stuttering to a halt and his sword clattering to the ground.

Silence blankets them like a thick smog. Clogs his nose and throat, robs him of his voice and breath. He wants to close his eyes, retreat from the reality that he's found himself in. Tommy is slumped against the cell wall, his face angled away from Sam, his hands open and empty, palms up towards the ceilings.

He's not moving. Not moving. Not--

'Bring him back,' Sam says, hating the tremble in his voice that spreads all over his body. He needs to be firm here. Be the Warden. Cold and callous and try to regain some control over the situation. 'That's why you're still alive, right? Because you can revive people. So do it. Bring him back.'

Dream's eyes flash, his neutral expression giving way to a slow smile that has Sam's insides writhing.

'Let me out.'

Sam feels his blood run cold. 'Not happening.'

'Well, then no deal.' Dream settles back against the wall, folding his arms behind the back of his head. 'It's a shame though, he was a lot of fun. Gotta hate when you break your favourite toys.'

He's revelling in this. Of course he is. Sam feels like he might be sick. Crimson seeps under his feet and he can't bring himself to look at Tommy's body, the horror of it all will eat him alive.

With nothing else to look at, he turns his gaze to Dream, feeling his anger bubbling up, aching for an outlet.

Dream snorts at the display. 'Getting mad at me isn't going to do anything. Besides, it's not like your hands are clean.'

A frown creases Sam's brow even as dread coils around his heart. 'What are you talking about?'

'He _begged_ you to let him go, Sam,' Dream says, a sickly sweetness poisoning the words. 'And what do you do, hm? You leave him in here with me. Breaking your own rules in the process. How long would you have left him in here with me, huh? You know, if I hadn't killed him.'

There's bile rising in Sam's throat. 'Leaving him in here was a mistake.'

'That'll go down well with the others. I'd rehearse it a bit more though if you wanna really sell it to them. Got the mournfulness down-packed at least.'

He really is going to be sick. Sam tears his mask off and lurches to the side of the bridge, vomiting up the contents of his stomach. He stays keeled over for a moment, clutching his middle as he tries to get his breathing in order.

Dream snorts. 'Gross.'

'What the fuck is wrong with you?' Sam croaks out. 'How could you... I thought... You said Tommy...'

The words stick like gum in his throat, and the acidic bile burns them away before he can choke them up. Dream appraises him, silently coaxing the questions out of him with a smile that bleeds condescension. Is this a game to him? Does he really get enjoyment out of this?

Sam doesn't understand. All Dream ever did was talk about Tommy. How he was important. That's how they got Dream here in the first place. The threat of Tommy dying before Dream was ready for it to happen. That was what had made him strip off his armour. That's what made him compliant and forced him into the prison. Sam didn't think Dream was capable of killing Tommy. None of this makes sense.

'What's up?' Dream asks lightly and Sam grits his teeth against the urge to bite his head off. Dream squints at his silence and cocks his head to the side. 'You thinking of all the people you gotta break it to?'

He hadn't been, but now the faces flash in his mind unbidden and he feels like he might be sick all over again. Dream sighs with faux sympathy.

'Tubbo will be rough, you should probably rip that band-aid off and get it over with. Some of the others might get a little mournful too. Puffy probably, she was always soft.' His nose scrunches up as he frowns. 'You shouldn't have much trouble with Phil, honestly. He skipped out of the father role a long time ago. He'll probably shrug it off like he did with Wilbur.'

Dream stretches languidly and gets to his feet. He turns, eyeing the cat that lies dead atop the chest. More of his handiwork, Sam deduces, and by the look on his face he has more remorse for that than the child lying broken between them.

'Not many people really cared about him, did they?' Dream says.

Sam's anger festers, hot and ugly in the pit of his stomach. 'Shut up.'

'It's true,' Dream says. 'Think of all the people who never visited him when he was exiled. The "brother" that blew up his home, the "father" who finished the job. Which of them were you trying to emulate, Sam? What role were you trying to fill out of pity for the sad little boy who had no-one?'

'I said shut your mouth, Dream.'

'I've touched a nerve,' Dream says, his right hand, bruised purple and bloody knuckled, falls over his heart. 'He must have really felt alone in those final moments too. Abandoned by the one person who actually seemed to care about him. What a poor, stupid, child.'

Sam lunges for him.

In seconds, he's got Dream pinned beneath him, his hands locking around Dream's throat to squash that vile shit spewing from his mouth. All his anger is channelled into his fists, nails digging into Dream's bare flesh as Dream paws at his arms weakly, face going red as he fights for his next breath

And through it all, even as his eyes bulge and he splutters, his smile stays locked in place.

'You gonna kill me too?' Dream's laughter is mangled with Sam's hands blocking his air flow. 'You can't, I'm the only one who can bring him back.'

The rage bleeds from Sam's pores and after one last bruising squeeze he reels back. Dream splutters, sucking in precious lungfuls of oxygen noisily as Sam runs his fingers through his hair.

'Gotta get that temper of yours under control, Sammy.'

 _'Don't_ call me that,' Sam hisses. He steps back, putting distance between them. His gaze strays over to Tommy and the anger gives out, making way for guilt.

This could have been avoided. He should never have broken his own rules. It had been a week, he should've let Tommy out, no matter how risky it was. He should've thought ahead and cornered them off from each other. He should never have left Tommy in here, not when he'd begged him not to. Pleading to be let out everyday. Dream had been the executioner but Sam's own ego had put them here.

Sam thought he knew Dream's limits. He was wrong. The responsibility lay with him.

Tears burn his vision but he refuses to cry. Not in front of this monster.

'We're at a stalemate, Sam,' Dream says. 'You can't risk killing me and I'm not saying anything until you let me go.'

It's true. It's all fucking true. Killing Dream would be justice, but it wouldn't bring Tommy back. Dream was the only one who could do that.

But it could be bullshit, like Tommy said. Dream hadn't proved it yet. He might be lying about the revival book, Tommy might really be gone for good and if he concedes, if Sam lets Dream go... It's all over. There's no saying what he'll do, who he'll kill, who he'll take on as his next fucking plaything.

Dream laughs again and a shudder rattles up Sam's spine. Their eyes meet and Dream holds his gaze for a long moment.

'You gotta make a decision,' Dream says, his smile still fixed in place, a crooked replacement for that damned mask of his. 'Tick, tock, Sam, what's it gonna be?'

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> SO OKAY. I started writing this as a 'what if' scenario where Sam accidentally killed Tommy during an escape attempt... but it was too much angst even for me so I settled on Sam confronting Dream instead, rife with Dream being a psychopathic asshole. Not totally what I was planning for the Bad Ending series but, meh. 
> 
> It's still very heavy handed on the angst but after what happened I feel like that's a given because holy shit. Also Sam is my absolute favourite I adore his character so this was really fun to write. 
> 
> Any comments and kudos are very much appreciated! Story title is from the song child, I will hurt you by Crystal Castles.


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